


The C Line

by spacesnail



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: As if the subway could get any more disgusting, Dark elements, Dark!Steve, F/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex on the Subway, Stalking, Steve is a nasty motherfucker, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacesnail/pseuds/spacesnail
Summary: Every night, Steve gets on the C Line with her at 34th Street-Penn Station and follows her down the line to her stop in Brooklyn. Tonight, he takes part in a bit of in-transit entertainment.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 283





	The C Line

**Author's Note:**

> So I am self isolating but I have also been sick! Which has been fun haha and by fun I mean the worst time of my life 🙃
> 
> I really haven’t been up to writing, so here’s this thing I wrote last month and haven’t edited. Sorry for the mistakes, I have barely read this over since writing it. ALSO I’m sorry I couldn’t give you guys much else during this trying time! We’ll see what happens once I start to feel better <3

Steve met her for the first time before she met him. Touched her before she had even seen his face. It wasn’t how he had planned for them to meet, but the opportunity presented itself and it was so, so beautiful.

It was just after a Knicks game, played at home, and the Knicks had won against the Lakers 119 to 112. Steve had watched it from the bar she worked at, tucked away in a table at the back while she cleaned dishes in the kitchen. He couldn’t see her but he knew she was there.

Her shift ended just as the game finished, the rest of the bar celebrating Tim Hardaway Jr. and Kevin Knox as she put away her apron and slipped out the door. After throwing down some cash for his tab, he followed her out. Soon the streets were flooded with excited patrons of the game and hundreds of people flooded into Penn Station, dozens hopping onto the C Line.

Somehow, in the packed train car, he managed to get close to her, standing almost right behind her as she held onto the bar in front of her. He had a good hold of the handle strap above him, but as a few more people got onto the train, packing it a little tighter, he took the opportunity to press himself up against her and hold onto the pole above her head.

She stiffened at the feel of his hard body pressed into her back and looked resolutely forward, even as he mumbled an insincere, “Sorry,” close to her ear. He was thankful she didn’t look back at him—not that she would’ve recognized him, anyways. The beard had grown out again, and his hat covered his face well, and he was always careful not to get too close to her when he watched her.

Still, he had plans for her. This was just a little taste for him, a free sample, an appetizer.

She felt so soft against him, and although her thick coat provided a hefty barrier, her thin leggings had her ass pressed right up against him. He had her trapped, wedged between his body and the bar in front of her. Surely she could feel his erection growing against her from the way she squirmed away from him, only to have the pole and other oblivious pedestrians block her path to freedom.

Nobody was watching them—all wrapped up in their own conversations, the train packed too tight for any movement. No one would be able to see him if he put his hands on her.

Her discomfort was palpable already, but Steve brushed past it, placing one hand on her hip, not wavering even as she jumped. It was only when he slid his hand back to grope her ass did she start to turn around, but he stopped her as he shoved her harder into the metal pole with his body.

“Face forward,” he growled in her ear, gripping her ass tighter now. She flinched from the pain of his fingertips digging into her soft flesh, but she obeyed his request. He grinned, lust pulling deep in his lower belly from her submission. “Good girl.”

“Please stop,” she whispered, voice tight like she was trying not to cry.

“You’ll enjoy this, sweetheart,” he muttered before bringing his hand to the front of her leggings. For a moment, he palmed her cunt through the fabric, rolling his fingers against her until she wiggled her hips forward to try and escape. “Stay still, baby girl. Otherwise, you won’t like what happens.”

She stayed quiet, lips pressed together until they turned pale, drained of blood, just like her knuckles clutching the subway pole so hard he thought her joints might pop.

It was only when he could smell the faintest scent of her cunt moistening, almost overshadowed by the smell of her sweat building under her coat, did he slip his hand up past her coat and sweater and then shove down past the waistband of her leggings and between her legs.

She gasped when he pressed his fingertips against her pussy through her panties, and she was shaking in his arms as he adjusted her coat with his other hand to hide his movements. His hand made small circles against her clit, playing with the pressure until she squirmed away with a whimper, thighs clenching automatically on his hand.

“There we go, baby. Just relax and let it happen.” As his fingers slipped past the gusset of her underwear to feel her skin directly, he chuckled deep in her ear, tickled by her whining, her weak resistance, even as he got her cunt wet.

Steve regretted not doing this sooner. His cock was so hard in his trousers, and every part of her was soft—her ass as he pressed himself against it, her hair as he ran his nose across the top of her head, the lips of her cunt, already soaked in her juices. And she was so fucking warm against his fingers, bitten by the cold. He could feel wiry hair around her opening, and that would have to go, but otherwise, she was perfect.

It was then that she grabbed his wrist, trying to yank him away. He was too strong for her, of course, so his hand didn’t budge, but she kept trying until he pinched her clit between two fingers, harsh, unforgiving. The choked little cry that gurgled up from the back of her throat was drowned out by the noise of the train, and he didn’t let up on her.

“Stop resisting,” he growled, “And don’t make a sound. I know you want this. You’ll learn to enjoy it if you relax.”

With a resigned whimper, she held onto the metal bar with both hands, leaning her forehead against them as he worked her up.

Everything about her was wonderful. His senses, usually in overdrive, focused in on her, drowning out the rowdy crowd around them, the talk of the basketball game, the announcements overhead on the subway speakers. Soon he couldn’t even smell the vague stink of the train and its inhabitants, was absorbed in her, the tickle of her hair against his face, the way it smelled mint and jojoba oil, a distinct scent that he recognized from the brand of hair products she used.

It wasn’t long before he slid his fingers down to her opening and felt the wetness that had collected there, slippery wet that he spread with broad strokes of his fingers all around her inner and outer labia, her clit, and even back around her perineum and asshole, which made her clench up and tremble in fear. He didn’t linger there, going back to rub her clit again, then continuing the process once she was dripping again, proceeding to spread more of her juices around her skin on the apex of her thighs, some getting soaked up by her leggings.

He wanted her messy for him, sloppy wet and so drenched everywhere that she would feel him as she walked home, sticky and cold between her thighs.

Once he was satisfied, he brought his fingers back to her entrance, dipping just the tip of his index finger inside of her, feeling the resistance from her tight walls. She whimpered in discomfort; his fingers were bigger than her own, he knew, and he had never seen her with a boy since he’d started watching her.

He had speculated that she might be a virgin before this, but his internal probing of her confirmed it. His finger eased in gradually, pumping in and out, palm pressed firmly against her clit and pulsing with every dip of his finger.

Steve groaned and rutted his hips against her, tucking his face into her neck, smelling her—everything about her, fresh and sweet. “Saving this cunt just for me, hmm?”

She shook her head, breaths coming faster now, knuckles turning pale on the metal bar. “No!” Her voice was so soft compared to the rattling of the train and the droning conversation of the people around them. “No, please, stop—”

Her words were cut off with a gasp as he sunk his entire finger inside of her, almost immediately finding that spot in her pussy and pulsing his fingertip against it until she was trembling and leaning back against his body.

“Good girl,” he grunted again, lips pressed to her neck. “Getting soaking wet for me, aren’t you? Hmm? That’s right, baby, feel how your little pussy loves the way I touch you. Getting off to a stranger touching you on this filthy fucking train. You’re a little slut for it, aren’t ya?”

She shook her head, squeaking out a barely-audible, “No! No—I’m—"

His second finger sunk into her opening and her words cut off, her eyes pinching shut in pain until he manipulated her clit with his thumb, drawing that sweet, sweet pleasure out of her again.

Her reactions were addicting, the conflict in her expressions, the way she was both uncomfortable and turned on, afraid yet helpless to his handling of her, trapped against him, completely at his mercy.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

While he kept her pinned with his body, he reached into his own pants and pulled out his cock. It was already so hard, had been for so long, and intensely sensitive. Gripping his shaft in his hand, he took care not to draw any attention as he stroked himself in time with his fingers pumping into her pussy. He managed to cover his front with the back of her coat, and she stiffened again once she felt his cock against her lower back.

“Please stop,” she mumbled into her hands. “Please, please, please stop…”

“Begging for the wrong thing, sweet girl,” he growled into her hair. He hiked up the back of her shirt along with her coat, and then it was the bare skin of her back against his shaft, and he couldn’t help but open his mouth in silent pleasure, let out a deep breath against her scalp, grind his cock hard against her soft skin until it was wet with precum. “So perfect,” he grunted, “So soft, baby. You’re perfect—new you would be.”

“Please,” she whimpered again.

He began to move his fingers inside her again, shoving them in deep with a quick apology. “So sorry, baby, didn’t mean to neglect you.”

“—Oh—” Her mouth opened wide, eyes clenched shut, sweat giving her skin a shine, and he could feel the way her cunt fluttered around his fingers, soaking his skin down to his knuckles. A tiny noise escaped her, a bit of a squeak, and he couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“Oh yeah, sweetie, you’re the perfect little whore for me, aren’t you? C’mon, baby, you’re already drenching my fingers. Come for me, come on, come for me right here—”

And she did, and she was so, so beautiful, even in the flickering lights of the train, even amongst every single degenerate New Yorker in the city.

The feeling of her tensing up in his arms, every muscle tightening and releasing along with the walls of her cunt, her juices dripping down his fingers and into his palm—it made his come, shooting off onto the bare skin of her back, hips grinding against her and making a mess on his cock and on her skin.

“Good girl,” he groaned, “So good, sweetheart. So good for me.” He pulled away slowly, tucking himself back in and then replacing her shirt over the stripes of come on her back. He gave it a little pat, making sure it would stick, and he smirked against her neck. “Just a little something to remember me by.”

Before he slipped away from her unseen, he placed a wet kiss on her neck and then took one last glance at her.

In the aftermath of her orgasm, soaked in his come, even as she trembled with fear, she glowed for him. She glowed just for him, and he knew then that he would devote himself to making her his own.

His little doll, his sweet girl, all for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
